


Jude Ain't Got Nothing On These Feathers

by WatchOverYourAssButt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bird Rituals, Castiel's Wings, Crack Fic, February - Freeform, M/M, Mating Rituals, Valentine's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchOverYourAssButt/pseuds/WatchOverYourAssButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's February, and Valentine's is on the horizon. Its no different for the Winchester's, who don't care much for traditional celebration of the 'holiday', but to Castiel and his growing knowledge of human traditions and customs, it is the time to act. And Dean and Sam are left to put together just what the hell Castiel is up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jude Ain't Got Nothing On These Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> For amusements sake, here's the playlist I had for this fic--it was very fun to listen to (just copy the link and paste) ~ https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcAhB8dK1uNChDCTNkhlbQQ9XikQ_tGT_

**\--This is ridiculous ~~and perhaps glorious~~ crack, don’t take any of it seriously. Just sit back and enjoy. The time is not completely specified, and this is all for fun. Planned on uploading for Valentine’s, but life sucks and interrupted me, so its Late Valentines (it counts, it’s still Feb.)  
For you, Heather, enjoy~--**

 

 

It was February. And in being such, the TV was filled with the infection of Valentine’s Day; commercials, shows, specials. Everywhere you turned there it was; everything covered in hearts, chocolates, toys, fun times, and lovey-dovey display’s or tales or plays of love, if not sex-driven love.

And Castiel was taking in every bit of it with his unbridled curiosity and his lack of any other source of entertainment.

He had been left hours ago in Dean and Sam’s hotel as they went out on a hunt, and having nothing else that he could or should do at the moment (surprisingly), he took this rare chance to educate himself with various options found on the television. He’d had trouble catching on to any of the content or emotional aspect of the plot in the shows available and instead, caught on to the red and pink trend that seemed to keep popping up.

He spent some time studying all the different approaches and opinions and experiences of it that were available. There were commercials offering Valentine’s specials to local fast food places, jewels in stores or specific jewelry stores, candy corporations, adult toy’s and channel packages when he passed Casa Erotica.  
There was the tender nature to new or young love, then there was the heated forbidden love, and then there was just the straight-up strange and dramatic and intense love. It was all interesting, and the end message Castiel received was this; this was the time for love, affection, and mating between partners. And he had to act fast, as in, now, to capture the interest of the one he wanted, or his chance would pass him by with a nice theme song playing in the background.  
Gifts seemed to be a necessity, and he could agree from his own culture and what little ritual they have when it came to such things—it was rare, more rumors and taboo, but he knew it. Gifts were like testing the water. Then there was wooing the partner, if they showed some interest. One just had to keep going further, until the interest and want was sure and accepted between the two, and then the mating should be sealed, obviously.

That was general enough for what could be done by angels and what was done by humans; and the human he was after fell prey to at least a decent amount of these stereotypical love approaches (luring the partner into what he was wanting, showing interest and respect, confirming the mutual want/need, and acting on it). Already planning gifts and options, Castiel had decided.

He was going to woo Dean Winchester to be his mate with an angel mating ritual. As human media made apparent, now WAS the time, after all. Well, an angel mating ritual with some human touches, but…he’d do it right.

He was on Sam’s computer researching more about the gifts available for this holiday, and local places he might acquire those and other things when he heard the Impala pulling in. He closed out of all the windows he had had opened (half of them accidently opened and just left in his determination to get to researching), and shut the computer, returning to the TV.

Which had been left absent-mindedly on Casa Erotica. He panicked, scrambling for the remote as he heard them coming closer to the door. He just got it changed, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, as Sam walked in first, Dean following after him.

“Never took you for a couch-potato Cas—you been staring at that thing all day?” Dean assessed as he entered, slightly winded but it seemed more from excitement than exertion, though the latter was apparent, too. Castiel looked to him, looking him up and down as the man put down his bag on the table under the window. Clothes streaked with splatters of blood, some of the fabric torn, his face scrapped and dirtied, and his eyes crinkling with his faint smile as he unpacked the bag. Castiel took a breath and looked away.

“I, uh….not all day. I spent some time on the computer, as well.” Castiel told him.

Sam, removing his jacket, raised a brow at that. “You weren’t using my browser, were you?” he asked, sounding faintly worried.

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “I…just…opened the one called explorer. Was that alright?”

Sam relaxed, and laughed. “Yeah, that’s…fine Cas. Feel free to use that all you want.” As the youngest Winchester got on said computer to check things briefly, Dean was just finishing removing all the weapons and item’s that had been in the weapons bag. Hack blades and syringes that were now empty.

“And just _what_ was an angel like you looking up on the computer, huh?” Dean asked curiously, his tone suggestive in a taunting way as many jokes ran through his mind.

“Items of interest.” Castiel said shortly, but somewhat honestly.

Dean gave him a look, opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. “Thank you…vague-y Mc’vague’er’son.” He sighed. “I got the shower first, Sammy.” He removed his jacket then and headed into the bathroom. The sink turned on, the sound of running water heard through the opened door.

Castiel’s mind was already elsewhere, planning out his offerings (and if Dean accepted them, his actions to follow) when Dean called from the bathroom.

“Hey, Cas! We need you to make a run. We, uh, need some more dead man’s blood, just in case, and I’m dead tired. Ya mind?”

Castiel, pulled from his thoughts, stood and answered. “Yes, I’ll do that right now.”

“Whoa.” Dean came back out of the bathroom, face half washed of the blood and dripping, making a look. “I mean, thanks, but…you don’t have to go…RIGHT now, you know.”

“I have other things to retrieve, anyways. I won’t be long.” He told them both, and before Dean could manage to utter another coherent word or even a ‘wait’, Castiel was gone.

Throwing his wet hands up, they fell with a plop at his sides. “Hate when he does that.”

“What, helps out?” Sam countered with an amused look.

“No, man, just zapping away! I could have more to say and he just, zaps away in the middle of conversation—it’s just plain rude! I mean, what if I wasn’t done talking, or if I needed to tell him about the dang hunt or somethin’?!” Dean grumbled on, removing the plaid.

“And since when do you come back from a normal old job and ‘tell Cas all about it’?” Sam raised a challenging brow.

“Well—” Dean began, giving a look, and then another one as if he was about to make a very valid point, “Look, it’s—ah, just shut up, you missed the point, I’m gonna go bathe this filth off of me…”

As Dean reentered the bathroom and shut the door behind him, Sam just chuckled. He checked some emails and news sites, as per usual, but being a bit curious as well as worried about what his computer was used for when he wasn’t around, Sam opened Internet Explorer and patiently looked into the browsing history.

And it was….very confusing. From chocolates, to weapons, to ancient items/plants/artifacts… Very confused as to what any of it meant, he went back to the first search to get some answer and found the original search.

:What is the human ritual for valentine’s day?:

Suffice to say, Sam was beginning to wonder whether he even wanted to question what any of that meant. As Dean says, and would probably say again, Cas is a…special little guy.

 

And that special little guy didn’t officially return for about two days. And by officially, that meant he must have popped in at night to drop off the dead man’s blood, because that next day after he’d left, they had more than enough to replenish what they’d used up, but no Castiel in sight.

“Where the hell could he even be?” Dean complained as he relaxed on his bed in hotel; relaxing being cleaning his precious gun while leaning back against the headboard. “I’ve prayed twice, not even a poof.”

“Maybe he’s not feeling very poofy right now.” Sam joked, not taking Dean’s complaints seriously whatsoever as he’d been hearing them all day.

“You realize how stupid that sounded, right?”

“And you realize how much like a girlfriend waiting for her boyfriend to text back that YOU sound like, right? Just because we don’t know of anything he could possibly be doing, Dean, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things he could need to do. He’s an angel, after all.” Sam retorted. Sam was only partially worried. Especially after what he saw on his laptop; it seemed like something that wasn’t any of their business, and nothing to worry about. And considering Castiel didn’t seem to want to tell them, might as well let him keep it to himself for now and get answers later.

Besides, this whole scenario promised a decent laugh somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind with his suspicions, so he was totally letting it build until it would get REALLY good.

It was that evening that Castiel finally popped up again. And he arrived, with bags. Clothing bags. Just as Dean came storming in from outside, about to throw accusations at Sam.

“Sammy, I swear, if this is some damn prank, I will kick your ass, where’s my-!!” he slammed the door shut, just as Sam shut his laptop, sitting on the bed. Both of their eyes fell to the angel standing in front of the TV, arms draped with bags.

“Hey…Cas?” Sam greeted as Dean stormed forward.

“The hell, man! Where you been?!” Dean demanded to know, looking the angel up and down, brows furrowing as he noticed the bags. “The hell is all that?”

“Bags. I went shopping.” He stated very calmly and matter-of-factly.

“With what money?!” Dean demanded.

“Money taken from a campaign that really doesn’t need to be campaigning.” He stated calmly once again, bringing the bags over to Dean’s bed and setting them down there. Swallowing, he looked to Dean without a word, the hunter staring him down as Sam looked confusedly between them, Castiel’s back to him.

Dean was still a little confused and coming down from his rage when Sam asked, “Uh…what were you about to accuse me of, Dean?”

Dean took a moment, the confusion over coming him shrinking with the returned anger as he walked around Cas to where Sam sat. “My clothes, man. My bags are empty—the ones in here and in Baby. Where the HELL would they have gone, huh?”

Castiel shifted behind Dean as the older Winchester watched Sam. Castiel was taking things out of bags, things of varied colors and fabrics, folding them neatly as he did so.

Sam furrowed his brows at Cas, then looked back to Dean. “…I… Dean, I have NO idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you’re saying my stuff up and disappeared?!”

“No.” Sam spoke calmly. “I’m just saying I have nothing to do with what happened to them.” He stood, going to his own clothing bag, finding it as full as when he’d last pulled anything out of it, and he looked back to Dean. “...My stuffs here.”

“Of course it is.” Dean said, the sentence sounding  full of blame.

Sam’s brows furrowed more, until he noticed the lines of various items of clothing now completely laid on Dean’s bed. “Uh…” he nodded toward the bed, and Dean made a face and turned around to see.

He looked over the many clothes, from jean’s to stretchy pants, even business suit pants. Various shirts, jackets, plaid, leather jackets, socks, even underwear…of somewhat vibrant colors. Dean looked to Castiel, and his accusing attitude seemed to turn on him now. “…Cas?” he asked warily.

Castiel looked between the two of them, as Sam and Dean were both staring him down now. He swallowed, and cleared his throat, looking to the clothes and back to them. “…I...learned about the loss of clothing. I went to get you more. I hope this is all, uh, proper…?” he looked back to all the different clothes, then to Dean with a small hopeful look.

Dean still watched him with a somewhat confused and distrustful look, but he looked over the clothes again and it seemed like as much as he had had and lost, so it should all replace it. And other than the underwear and its unusual shades that he wasn’t exactly used to wearing, it was all fine. Though he had to wonder, did Castiel even get the right sizes?

Then he considered he probably did, and he tried not to think about how or when Castiel got the chance to figure that out for sure.

“B-but how did you know about my clothes going missing? I, like, JUST realized it when I went out to the trunk.” Dean stated.

Castiel didn’t like that question, and he turned to look at the clothes again. “I…I notice things you two don’t at times, and I’m quicker than you.” He offered as an answer.

“….Did you just call me slow?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat, causing Dean to look to him. “I’m sure he’s thankful and appreciative of the clothes, though, Cas. He doesn’t like staying in the same old clothes for long unless he has to.”

“What, and you do, with that hunter-funk your gigantor mass gets?” Dean countered.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Do you accept these clothes, Dean?” Castiel asked then, drawing Dean’s attention back, somewhat confusing him by how he asked.

“What, you have some sort of return time limit?” Dean raised a brow, and as Castiel just looked confused, he rolled his eyes and shook his head then gave a short nod. “Yeah, Cas, I accept the clothes, since I don’t seem to have any others.”

Sam cleared his throat.

Trying not to drop his head back, Dean added, “I…I appreciate it…thanks.”

Castiel considered him and his answer for a moment, before giving a very small smile and nodded.

“Now…” Dean began, beginning to set up the clothes in collections of outfits, “with that out of the way, why were you gone so—”

There was the sound of flapping and a rush that brushed the empty bags across the floor, and Dean dropped his head forward in silence for a moment, before raising his head with an aggravated, “Really?!”

~

The next time they saw Cas, again to Dean’s frustration (he was praying more irritably and almost worriedly), was at the most random point and not at all because Dean was calling for him.

Sam and Dean were just finishing an interview with some possible case victims, but the more and more they talked, it was sounding more like a normal, local crime rather than anything of the supernatural nature.

They were checking the scene of the supposed crime, which was a library, Sam talking to a collection of students while Dean was searching for anything suspicious down one of the book aisles. So far, nothing; no cold spots, sulfur, hex bags or anything else indicative, and it was disappointingly boring. So much so that he sighed and was about to turn around and head back to Sam, when he heard some woman yelp.

He continued walking down the aisle, to the next one, listening. He thought he heard a man shh’ing someone, and the falling of books as he turned an aisle.

And he came face to face with the trench-coated angel, who stood there with a serious yet expectant look, a pile of books in his hands.

Confused, Dean was about to give the usual ‘what the hell’, when he heard the raucous again, and looked further down the aisle, saw the fall of some books and as he listened, he realized…it wasn’t exactly something _wrong_ going on. Surely something the librarian wouldn’t approve of, though. Distracted for a moment by another yelp and a grunt and the shaking of one of the book shelves, he chuckled shortly and looked back to Castiel.

To find the angel was nearly just as distracted, by the same raucous. It wasn’t until Dean cleared his throat that Castiel returned his attention to the human, with uncomfortable look almost similar to the freaked one he had when Dean had tried to get him laid at the brothel.

“…Here for me, or the show?” Dean asked, somewhat amused.

“You, of course.” Castiel responded, clearing his throat.

“Oh, really?”

“…Yes. Really.” Castiel assured him, quirking and squinting with slight confusion.

“So, you just picking and choosing now when you come? You ignoring my calls and prayers again?” Dean asked.

“No, I… I wasn’t ignoring, I was just…busy.” Castiel stuttered to answer, looking briefly guilty.

“Ah, yeah, sure.” Dean nodded, not sounding as if he believed that. “Busy with what, other angels? I thought you were staying away from those dicks.”

“I’m not spending time with my kin, Dean.” Castiel assured him, and the two of them looked briefly to the bookshelf again as a few books were knocked off.

“Oh yes, baby, like that!” the girl gasped, and Dean and Castiel were briefly distracted again, before Castiel looked back to Dean seemed faintly flushed.

He suddenly shoved the books at Dean. Dean struggled to catch the books in the suddenness and the confusion and he grasped them, feeling the weight immediately. “Shi-… What’s this crap?”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped at the statement of ‘crap’. “They’re for you; lore books that I don’t believe either of you have ever come across before. They’re very ancient, some of them with their own translation pages. I thought they would be useful, they were made by deceased but distinct hunters…”

Dean looked down at the books, then to Cas, and the books again in consideration. So…he’d been gone to get books this time? What, was he been taking inventory on their stuff and deciding he’d be their personal supplier and restocking angel? He looked back to Castiel, whose gaze had wandered like he was about to leave, like it was awkward or not how he expected this to go and he didn’t want to stay anymore.

“T-thanks…Cas. I’m sure, uh, we’ll get use out of these.” Dean said, watching Castiel’s reaction clearly. He was acting so strange, he almost seemed….sensitive about Dean’s reaction to what he offered.  It was evident as Castiel’s slumped shoulders raised once more, and his gaze stopped wandering.  
What was he so sensitive for, though? Jeez, Dean was tempted to call him a big baby if he wasn’t worried that’d send him flying off right then and there, possibly with a more damaging poof than usual.

“So, you accept them?” Castiel asked, and Dean made a look at the question (he did just thank him, didn’t he?) before answering, “Yeah…sure, I accept them.”

Castiel seemed decently satisfied, almost on the verge of a small smile.

“…Is that where you’ve been, getting these books?”

Castiel hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes. Getting the books.”

Dean didn’t honestly believe that was the ONLY thing keeping him busy, looking for special books. And there had to be more to Castiel’s prolonged disappearance the other day as well. He was an angel, ‘shopping’ and…book hunting shouldn’t take this long, should it? He looked Cas up and down, adjusting the books in his arms, as he considered a question coming forth, but he never got to ask it, as Castiel spoke first.

“Have you…or Sam…been…’mingling’ with other hunters recently? Or any of the victims? It’s…important.”

Dean honestly didn’t know how to respond, more because he was trying to figure out why the HELL Castiel would need to know that. He assumed he meant…mingling sexually. What else would he mean? Too many questions coming forth, Dean finally asked, “Uh, why do you need to know if we’ve been banging anyone, Cas?” his brows forward, before he gave an awkward laugh, “What, trying to make sure we’re clean of the freaky stuff?”

“Y-yes.” Castiel fumbled the answer, seeming confused by the question but quickly trying to hide behind it. “For…health reasons. I’ve been….keeping up with yours and…Sam’s health. So, you are not…currently…with anyone? Or….intimate with anyone?” Castiel asked carefully, stepping a little closer with each pause.

Dean was honestly taken off-guard by the whole line of questioning. Why, he wasn’t sure. Hell, he was usually one to brag, even to Sam, especially when it caused amusing discomfort. Just, Castiel NEVER asked stuff like this. The guy was a damn deer in the head-lights in a brothel, or on other occasions either instinctual or awkward when it came to porn-inspired scenarios, at least that Dean had seen. WHY was he asking these questions? And WHY was it so weird to talk about this to him? “N-no, Cas…I haven’t been ‘seeing’ anyone, I don’t ever ‘see’ anyone. Briefly glance, maybe.” He shrugged at his way of putting his flings, attempting his usual coy attitude, but it was half-hearted.

Castiel considered him for a moment, before giving a delayed nod.

In the silence, Dean tried to take the chance to ask what he meant to before. “Look, dude… This popping in and out, you’re worrying me. Where have you been going the past few days? You’ve been acting weird since we got back from that vamp nest.”

“I’ve just been…busy, Dean. I have other responsibilities other than you and your brother.” He avoided Dean’s gaze with that, so he didn’t see how damn-near offended Dean looked.

Dean attempted to respond, but Castiel was already turning to leave and he couldn’t get the books out of his hands fast enough before Castiel poof’d off again as the female down the other aisle sounded like she was hitting the books hard.

“Damn it. Freakin’ angel…” he grumbled, and sought out his brother, toting the books with him. He found Sam just leaving the group he had previously left the younger Winchester to interrogate. Sam looked as if his time had just been wasted, and Dean wouldn’t be surprised. “Lemme guess—zip from your end?”

Sam sighed and nodded, stowing his notepad that had relatively nothing on it, other than a doodle of a bookshelf falling on himself. “Worse than zip….turns out, this whole deal? The dude found dead in the library after some fight? Was very possibly an elaborate joke from the drama department, getting back at bands’ accusation that they were just a big club full of children playing dress up. So the drama club went far to prove them wrong. Was hoping you had something suggesting otherwise so I don’t have to write this down as one of my crap-call jobs?”

“Sorry, Sammy, looks like you need to add another to that list.” Dean told him, and Sam gave a look to the books in his brother’s arms. Dean looked down at them and sighed. “Nothing to do with the case, they’re from Cas. There was no EMF, no spots, no hex-bags, sulfur, nada.”

“Castiel gave you…books?” Sam questioned, and there was a quirk to his lips that he tried to contain.

Dean shrugged and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know, man, he just popped in back there and just practically threw them at me, and…asked some weird questions, it was…”

“What kind of weird questions?”

Dean considered telling Sam, but something about that contained smirk made him hesitate. “…Nothing, just random… Look, is it just me or is he….acting _weird_? Like, more than usual. Sensitive, even.”

Sam shrugged. “A little weird, yeah, I guess. Maybe he’s just been bored lately? Trying to find outlets, make himself more…social, I don’t know.” He suggested, turning to head for the exit, Dean following behind him, still toting the collection of books.

“Bored? What do you mean, bored?” Dean asked with attitude.

Sam laughed faintly. “Dean, uh…he’s supposedly sitting around waiting for us half the time if he isn’t helping us, he doesn’t really have…close friends, to our knowledge. We’re either on cases, or getting some much needed rest or human time. He’s not exactly constantly stimulated by hanging out with us.”

“Come on, he’s got TV and Internet! And…books, apparently—look, can you carry some of these? They’re freakin’ heavy.” Dean retorted.

“That old back causing you problem, gramps?” Sam asked, turning to assist him.

Only for Dean to give him a look, and with a shift of the books in his arms, he gripped more firmly and just walked on ahead of his brother, no longer seeking his help.

Trying to contain multiple layers of amusement, Sam went on as they exited the library and headed for the Impala. “Look, all I’m saying is…he’s an ANGEL, dude. Maybe he’s got angel things to do. Or that he used to do, and just needs to get out of his system. Or something else, who knows. But, what would you rather him do, stay put unless we need him? Like our own personal, holy butler?”

Dean reached the car, and plopped the books in the backseat, not answering Sam right away as he walked around to his side of the car, working off his tie already. Sam stood on the other side by his door, waiting for Dean to answer. Dean leaned against the top of the car, watching Sam with much attitude before he responded.

“Just…shut up.”

~

“Coooome oooon. There’s CRAP on!” Dean complained at the TV, remote in hand as he continued to flip through channels in his laid out position on his bed.

Sam was half on his computer (not looking for cases, of course, he’d already done that five times throughout the day, and there was nothing), half paying attention as he responded, “What, no decent specials on for Casa Erotica?”

“Please, Sammy. That’s private time entertainment. We’re close, but not that close.”

“Don’t say that in front of Becky.”

“That’s not even funny.” Dean rolled his eyes, flipping another channel, quite angrily, too. He side-glanced his brother with an accusatory look. “You’re really snarky, lately.”

“Sassy might be the more accurate word you’re looking for.” Sam corrected, and Dean turned to give him a tired ‘are you kidding me’ look. Sam didn’t even look at it, but he felt it, and he smirked faintly. “See, because snarky suggest I’m angry, or that I have an attitude. That’s your thing right now, because I’m actually enjoying myself a bit.”

“Well, good for you, Sassy Winchester.”

“Dude, I’ve already suggested a few things to watch—Game of Thrones, Firefly—”

“Yeah, I’m looking for entertainment, not a nerd-fest.” Dean told him, and Sam rolled his eyes, shutting his laptop and heading for the bathroom. Dean just continued to flip and flip.

“Not,” flip, “a,” flip, “damn,” flip, “thing,” flip, “on-”

“Hello Dean.”

In Dean’s small bit of surprised, his press of the remote became more of a squeeze of the remote, resulting in the object slipping from his hand and down to the floor, but he barely regarded it. His eyes were on the angel at the foot of his bed, holding a box full of…something.

Castiel put down the box on the edge of the bed, walked over and picked up the remote before handing it to Dean. Dean took it, staring at Castiel. One, because of his utter confusion and irritation with the angel the past few days, but also because Castiel’s hair looked….different. Messier, nearly reminding him of when they first met.

Castiel stared back, beginning to seem awkward the longer Dean stared. “…Hi…?”

“Where have you been?” Dean got straight to the point, slipping his legs over the edge of the bed and standing.

“Looking in on things…” Castiel looked away, towards the box, but Dean avoided the curiosity over it as he spoke.

“What things?”

“Just…objects of interest.” Castiel stated. It didn’t sound like a lie to Dean, but it definitely sounded suspect.

He stepped closer to Cas, who of course didn’t back off, more natural to the lack of personal space, though Dean’s stare was a bit too piercing so he reached for the box and pulled it to him, and he began pulling whatever objects out and laying them out across the bad.

“What’s this?” Dean asked.

Castiel finished laying it out, and Dean’s eyes widened, his irritation dying down a bit. “It’s, uh…I believe a proper collection of one of the shows you’ve spoke of off and on, and referenced; I finally figured out the reference sources.”

Dean just came to stand directly beside Castiel, looking over the fat DVD cases laid out. It was collector editions of each and every season of the original Star Trek series. Even collector’s editions of the movies, as well. Some of the cases were very shiny and reflective. They were obviously very expensive, perhaps even rare, and Dean was decently silent, staring at them. When he looked back to Castiel, the angel had the smallest smile on his lips, like he was proud. Probably of the look of awe on Dean’s face before he finally tore his eyes away from the nerd collection laid out before him.

“…Dude..! How’d you get this?!” Dean asked, looking over each case, and each one he picked up, he seemed to devolve more and more into an excited child at Christmas. “This had to cost a shit-ton—please tell me you stole the money from douchebags again?”

Castiel nodded to confirm Dean’s worry, and the hunter relaxed. Castiel didn’t take his eyes off Dean as the man smiled, turning the DVD cases over in his hands, carefully opening some, marveling over how pristine and perfect they were.

“This is freakin’ awesome.” Dean shook his head, smiling very happily as Sam exited the bathroom to find the hunter and angel standing by the bed.

“Hey, Cas.” He greeted, not bothering asking any questions, more assessing with his eyes, and he raised a brow at his brother, who was very visibly geeking.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel briefly greeted, giving a nod in Sam’s direction, before looking back to Dean proudly again. “So, you accept these, I gather?”

“Of course I do! What IDIOT would give THIS collection up!?” Dean exclaimed, already opening up the first case of the first season, as if he were ready to put the movie in to watch. He walked around Cas, heading for the DVD player.

“Oh, so your geeky shows are allowed, but mine aren’t?” Sam remarked, walking around Dean’s bed to go back to his.

“Exactly.” Dean responded, causing Sam to roll his eyes as he set the movie into the slot, closing it up and rubbing his hands together excitedly as he looked to Castiel, who was smiling faintly to himself. “So?”

Castiel gave Dean a look, smile faintly wavering. “…So?”

“You gonna watch with us or what, block buster?”

He was about to respond his lack of understanding of the nickname, but decided not to. “I…I’ll have to do so another time. I’ve got a few more things to check on. But I’m very glad you appreciate the gift.”

“Aw, come on, man!” Dean grumbled. “You can’t go and get the classics and just LEAVE without giving it a watch, have you even seen any Star Trek?”

“Parts-”

“No, see, I’m going to remedy. Cas, come on-”

“I have other things-”

“What other things?!” Dean challenged.

“….Just…things that need my attention, and my efforts, to accomplish. I’m sorry, Dean. You will understand when it is done, if not before.” Castiel stated, and before Dean could even question what that meant, Castiel was gone once again.

Dean doubled over, planting his hands on the bed and dropping his head with a sigh.

After nearly a minute of silence, apart from the play menu music playing from the TV, Sam decided to speak. “…Kinda unfair, don’t you think?”

At hearing the restrained amusement in Sam’s voice, Dean turned around slowly, and he saw it clearly on Sam’s first, how his lips quivered but his face stayed very strained.

Hesitating, Dean eventually asked, “…What’s that, Sammy?”

“That’s three gifts now for you, and I get nothing? What does a hunter got to do for some profound gifts?”

And for all Sam’s amusement, both understood and hidden underneath that enjoyment Dean could very well notice, Dean thought he deserved some punishment.

He threw a pillow right at Sam’s face, and after watching it knock his head sideways, sending his hair flying around his head, he sat back on the bed and started the first episode of Star Trek, satisfied. At least about ONE thing.

~

Dean could hear the familiar and not-so familiar words and voices of angels, and all of them were condescending him, and condemning Castiel. It was darkness until one of them would speak, as if it caused a ripple and the ripple was light in the darkness. The ripples, as almost calming as they began, seemed to begin shake, seemed to separate and move threateningly. He didn’t like this. Their words were terrible, and he felt intentions, nasty intentions.

And it was as if a voice whispered in the back of his mind, whispered his worry that had come to him off and on through the past few days; the angels have caught him in their clutches again. In Dean’s defiance, he felt himself launch, as if to fight or seek Castiel out. But the act in the dream seemed to jolt him awake instead.

His eyes shot open, and in his position rolled over almost on his stomach on one side of the bed, his gaze landed on his brother, whose body was sprawled all over his own bed. Dean sighed, before he felt that familiar crawling sensation going up his spine, it feeling stronger the more he woke.

Before he even rolled over, he heard it.

“Hello, Dean.”

He rolled his torso, leaning up on his elbows, to see Castiel was sitting at the head of the bed on the other side, legs hanging over the side. Dean could faintly tell Castiel’s arms were reached in front of himself holding something, but it was out of his sight enough that he couldn’t see.

Castiel looked sideways to Dean, catching his eyes with his own as he asked, “What were you dreaming about?”

Dean watched him, brows knitted with thoughts on his dreams and with weariness before he rolled until his body was straight on the bed, adjusting the covers he’d had so that it didn’t get caught underneath him. Castiel’s gaze which had been mostly upward fell downward, though, catching how the blanket hiked up Dean’s leg—a bare leg, revealing the hunter had been sleeping in just his black t-shirt and underwear.

Castiel looked away, and Dean could almost wonder if he saw a flush to Castiel’s face, but the lighting of the room wasn’t clear enough. He adjusted the covers a bit more and sat up, leaning back against the head-rest. “I, uh…nothing, just a dream. Nothing memorable…”

“You seem disturbed.” Castiel stated, looking to Dean again.

Dean narrowed his eyes, realizing what he knew but hadn’t really wanted to consider, that Castiel had been watching him sleep for some unknown amount of time. “Yeah, well, maybe it was the angry fairies again. I seriously can’t remember it….” A lie, but he wasn’t going to let Castiel know that. “…So, what exactly do you got this time, bringing it to me in the middle of the night and waiting for me to wake up for?” Dean asked, laying his head back and rubbing at his eyes.

Castiel looked down at whatever he was holding, and without looking at Dean, he turned on the bed, his leg sliding onto it as he presents a plastic-packaged circular thing, resting it on his leg. Dean narrowed his eyes, and not able to make it out right away, he leaned toward the light on the night stand and flipped it on.

Resting on Castiel’s leg was a very scrumptious looking chocolate pie.

“It…was said to be the favorite of chocoholics and pie-lovers alike.” Castiel informed him, as he watched Dean’s eyes widened, making him look very awake as he just stared for a decent moment.

“That’s…that’s pie.” Dean finally said, his voice sounding like a weird mix of half sleepy, and half dreamy.

Castiel nodded. “Yes.”

Dean took a breath and licked his lips, still not looking away from it. It definitely _seemed_ like it would live up to his title of favorite of chocoholics and pie-lovers, but he’d of course have to test it. An expectant half smile growing, he leaned forward a bit, before his eyes moved back up to Castiel, who’s head was quirked and who’s eyes were studying and he remembered how weird this situation was. Castiel, poofy angel of the lord, appearing in the middle of the night to give him a chocolate pie, on top of all the other random and unasked for items? This wasn’t normal. Then again, his life never had been, had it?

“Um…can I, uh, ask…why you got this…?” he began asking, wary of doing so. It seems like any time he tried to ask Castiel for answers, he leaves, which did nothing good for his nerves or suspicions. “And maybe why you’re bringing it now, at…” Dean rolled to look, seeing it was four in the morning, and he looked back at Castiel with an exasperated look, “-four in the morning?”

“I…” Castiel, for a moment, couldn’t answer. He looked at Dean in a strange way, which was saying something, because he was always strange, especially when it came to Dean. But he seemed to be considering something, perhaps considering what he would say. “…I came across it recently. I thought you would like it, as I’ve noticed the last few times you and Sam have happened across a place that offered pie, you have not had a chance to actually _have_ one.”

Well, that was almost a good enough reason for why he got it, but it still didn’t answer his other question. Then Castiel went on, though still not actually answering him. Well, he did, but it didn’t satisfy Dean.

“I brought it because there’s…a certain time it needs to be eaten…before it’s inedible.”

Dean gave Castiel a look that told him he didn’t entirely believe that. But with a sigh, he shrugged. “Alright then…”

“So…i-if you accept it, its best you eat it soon.”

Dean just nodded, reaching his arm to take it.

“You accept it?”

Dean looked at Castiel, and once again really desired to know why Castiel kept _asking_ that, but he was getting to the point of just going with it instead of striving for an answer for why. “…Yeah, Cas, I accept it. You think I’m going to turn THAT down?” he nodded towards Castiel’s lap.

Castiel nodded, smiling in faint satisfaction before fumbling to hand over the container, offering a plastic utensil that apparently had come with it, when he passed it off.

“Thanks, Cas…” Dean stated, looking at the pie now in his lap, not really sure his appetite had had time to wake up, but it was pie, his appetite should always be ready and prepared for that, right? He looked up, though, when he felt Castiel move off the bed. “Hey, wait-”

“You should eat that in the next twelve hours.” Castiel advised, and before Dean could even set down the pie and attempt to work off the blankets, he was gone.

“God—Damn it, freakin’ angel!” Dean complained in frustration, legs uncovered and sprawled out as he ran a hand through his hair, faintly hearing the intake of breath from the other bed and the mumbled ‘wha…’ of his waking brother.

“Whazzgoin on?” Sam asked oh-so-smoothing, raising off the bed and brushing locks of hair from his eyes.

Dean sighed, very tempted to toss the pie across the room, but he of course couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Man, I just don’t freaking get it, he keeps popping in and out, won’t muster any sort of decent explanation, never lets us know he’s alright until he suddenly freakin’ just…APPEARS. And all the dang gifts, what’s that about!?”

“I…idun-dunno, Dean…” Sam sighed, rolling onto his back in an awkward position, just lying there as his brother went on.

“I mean…there’s got to be a point to the shit he’s giving me, does…does he think it’s my birthday or something?” Dean began to reason, slinging his legs over the side of the bed to face Sam and tell him this bubbling theory. “Maybe he doesn’t know the day, he thinks my birthdays coming up, and…and he just doesn’t realize you give all the present _on the day of_?”

Sam yawned and rolled as he responded with a half-assed, and more sleep-confused theory. “Or maybe…angelsdon’t…do it like that. Maybe they give the gifts up until,” yawn, “the…the day of? Maybe? Can I go back to sleep now?”

Dean just grumbled to himself, muttering a yeah whatever back to Sam eventually as he popped open the container. He forked a nice bite from the pie, and popped it in his mouth.

There’s a moment of silence, and then the sound of a moan that should not be emitted when one is simply eating, and for that brief moment all was forgiven.

“Mmm…well…Cas sure knows how to pick’em.”

~

When Sam woke the next morning, he didn’t find Dean finishing the pie, nor did he find him moping around either. No, when he went to wash his face, not having seen Dean in the room, he assumed his brother went to get food. Instead, the younger hunter nearly jumped out of his skin when Dean busted into the bathroom.

“Damn it, man, I thought you’d be Cas!” Dean complained, looking around Sam further into the bathroom, only to give an aggravated huff and leave his brother to finish drying his face before following him out.

“Why the hell would Cas be in the bathroom?” Sam asked, brushing his hair back.

“Why anything with him lately, dude. He’s obviously been…spying, going through our stuff, and just watching us-”

“You.” Sam corrected, but Dean kept going.

“-for whatever reason and for however long, and I’m determined to catch him. This is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re getting ridiculous.” Sam sighed, dragging himself back over to his bed to get some clothes to prepare for a shower. He glanced back to his brother, who was at the window. “…By the way, how are those clothes fitting you?”

“Shut up!” Dean snapped back, looking around outside the window, moving towards the door as if he were considering going outside. He adjusted the plaid shirt, though, looking over it. It did fit, rather perfectly, and he didn’t know if he was more thankful or weirded out by that fact.

Dean finally abandoned the window, and walked across the room, looking for somewhere to look next. Sam could almost swear, Dean considered checking under the bed, before he moved on to the closet, yanking it open.

“….Dean, I seriously doubt Castiel is in the closet.” Sam stated in a very dead-pan tone.

“You never know.” Dean stated, but Sam just laughed as if it were the contrary as he pulled his laptop into his lap and went to his usual site sources for any promising news reports.

“Dean, look-whether he is spying on you or not, what exactly are you even going to do about it? We should stop wasting time, when Cas seems perfectly fine, if not at least healthy, and we need to put our efforts towards a job, okay? Surely there’s some crap going down somewhere that could use your  mother-hen fretting.”

Dean ignored the mother hen jab. “Dude, we could already have a job!” Dean countered, storming out of the closet with a raised hand. “This could be some asshats with wings messing with Cas again. Or he could be losing it again because of something, because with our luck, that shit just happens.”

Sam, sitting in a chair with his laptop, proceeded to shut it and slump in his chair, dropping his head with a great sigh. He was very much considering speaking out about what he’d been with-holding about the online searches he’d seen made by Castiel on his computer. He really wasn’t sure the hilarity was going to outweigh the headache Momma-Dean was giving him.

Sitting up as he heard the pie container being thrown a bit over-dramatically away, he opened his eyes to see Castiel was standing on his side of the room. He looked very awkward and stiff, eyes on Dean and his frustration across the room, before they fell to Sam.

“…Am I…interrupting something?” he asked, looking between the two of them as Dean turned to face him, not exactly closing the space of the room just yet, Sam noted and resisted rolling his eyes.

He sees Dean about to say something, though. “Actually—”

“No, Cas, nothing. W-what’s up?” Sam asks the angel.

Dean took a seat, quite loudly, at the window table and Sam just knew he was pouting away his frustration over everything. But despite the confusion of Sam’s reassurance and Dean’s attitude, the angel still began walking over to Dean. And Sam noticed, something gold slipping out of the edge of Castiel’s hand, obviously something gold and long in his balled-up grip.

Dean avoided looking at Castiel, even as the angel came to stop and stand beside the table. “…Are you alright?” he asks Dean.

“No more than when I’ve prayed, so you should know, right? You are hearing my prayers, right, Cas?” Dean looked up to the angel then, and the underlying annoyance that lay below his worry seemed to take over then.

Castiel’s gaze fell down, before he looked back to Dean. “I…”

“You are, and you’re not answering.”

“Dean, come on.” Sam warned.

“No, dude—I don’t know what the heck I did to deserve you lying like this, man, what-….what is that?” Dean asked, his train of thought and questioning interrupted as Castiel raised his hand, and the gold fell and hung from his grasp.

It was a golden rope-chain necklace, and hanging from it, was a very familiar and dirty-gold amulet.

Dean’s eyes widened, but much different than they had when he’d seen the pie. It was like seeing a ghost, and even Sam was surprised as he realized what it was.

There was a very long silence, which left Castiel looking between Dean and Sam, before only slightly lowering his arm that held the necklace, Dean’s gaze following it as he tried to find words. Eventually, Sam cleared his throat, and Dean looked to Sam, saw him nod at Castiel, and the older Winchester carefully reached for the necklace, looking it over as he handled it carefully.

“I knew it had been lost and forgotten after I’d given up on its usefulness…and I could sense you both missed it… So I retrieved it.” Castiel explained, as Dean lay the amulet carefully in his palm.

“You retrieved it?” Sam asked, standing and coming their way.

Castiel nodded, looking to him as he said, “It wasn’t very hard. I just sought out the hotel and went from there. It wasn’t far. Just a few dump-sights away from the motel.”

Sam made a face. Had Castiel seriously gone looking through dumps for that? He looked to Dean to see the man finally returning his attention to the angel. The look on his face made him look small, like being returned the amulet had thrown him back a few years.

“…You seriously went looking for this….for me?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded. He faced Dean as the man stood, and seemed ready to ask a question, but Dean cut him off quickly, even if his question got fumbled on the way out. “H-hey, Cas… What’s my birthday?”

Castiel was take off-guard by the question, but despite the quirk of his head, he did answer. “Your birthday is the twenty-fourth of January. You were born in the year nineteen-seventy-nine. Have you forgotten your birthday..?”

“No, of course not.” Dean shook his head, and looked down at the amulet again, brows knitted.

“…So, do you accept the return of the amulet from me?” Castiel asked him after a moment’s pause, puffing up his chest and waiting.

Dean wasn’t even going to argue it this time, so he said, “Yeah, of course I do… Thank you, Cas, I…really appreciate it.” He told him earnestly, watching him, studying the look on his face as he seemed to light up…or was that the glow in his eyes? He noticed the puff of Castiel’s chest as he looked the angel up and down fleetingly.

And then he was gone once more. Dean stood there, watching the space the angel had been for some time, before he looked to Sam, and then his duffel bag which he then proceeded to rummage through as he set down the necklace on the bed carefully.

“And what are you looking for?” Sam asked, confused. He expected more grumpy complaints from Dean, now that Castiel was gone.

Much to Sam’s approval, though, Dean didn’t seem up for it. “A normal thread to hang this on, the gold’s a little too…bling-y for me.”

“Uh, Dean…” Sam spoke up, like he was giving a warning and Dean looked up, raising a brow. “…Maybe you should just keep the chain for a little while? That’s…a very expensive rope chain, Castiel probably went to a lot of trouble (well, as much trouble as he could get into as an angel), to get that. It…might mean something to him that you have it…?”

Dean considered Sam’s words, hesitating, but he sighed and just stuffed everything he’d pulled out back into his bag before taking the necklace and working it around his head. As the cool and heavy chain settled upon his neck and chest, it felt strange. But it fit just about the same as the original had, and the amulet settled back upon the middle of his chest like an old comfort.

~

Though not exactly ENTIRELY lacking in the necessities for the road and motel stops, Dean (in his running around trying to catch Castiel spying on them) had realized they might need some snacks, drinks, and other assorted things replenished (Sam had fervently ignored Dean’s snide remarks about how Castiel could replenish his clothes and get him random things, but wasn’t able to bring them necessities). He asked Sam to do it, but Sam urged him to instead, saying he needed to distract himself from sitting around and trying to force a brain fart over this whole Castiel thing. Dean would have argued, but he could actually feel the sneaking headache and discreetly agreed (discreetly agreed; meaning he cloaked his giving in with pouting and grumbling and futile arguing).

And it was actually good he had resigned to going. The brief ride thus far had provided a calming effect on Dean, as did the presence of the amulet lying against his chest still; the chain was taking some getting used to, but he’d give it a chance.

Simple classic rock played, Pour Some Sugar On Me starting up and Dean found himself tapping at the steering wheel as he hummed or faintly sung to himself, just enjoying the moment. “Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light. Television lover, baby, go all night~.” He sang with soft passion to himself, the passion of it growing as he continued. “Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet--Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah, So c'mon!”

There was the sudden beat of wings and feathers, the loud sound of the passenger door all-but busting opening, and a panicked utterance of the hunter’s name and Dean turned to see Castiel half hanging out of the car and in his own panic, his hand shot for Castiel’s wrist, which he grasped and yanked him back inside as best he could.

“Son of a freakin’ bitch, Cas-!” he exclaimed, bring the impala to a sudden, swerving halt. After taking a moment to assess his car, and then himself, as well as catch his breath as his heart was pounding, he looked to Castiel. “What the hell?!”

“M-my trajectory was a bit off.” Castiel answered.

“Ya think?!” Dean asked, shaking his head and trying to calm, looking the angel over.

“No. I know.”

“What were you even thinking doi-” Dean asked, just barely beginning to calm down, but Castiel interrupted.

“It itsn’t important.”

Dean’s brows furrow at the interruption, as Castiel seemed to interrupt out of urgency, as if he had to say something, and for a split moment, Dean believed maybe Castiel was finally going to confess to what the heck was going on. He studied the angel as he begins to find the words; Castiel seemed worried, urgent, and expectant. Dean also noticed….his tie was missing. Eyes narrowed on the area that was left sort of naked by its absence, his attention was pulled back to the blue eyes watching him as Castiel spoke again.

“Dean, I have some things to offer you.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Come on, man, Cas—whats going on? Is it angels, is something wrong?”

Castiel looked surprised before shaking his head. “N-no, Dean. Nothing is wrong.” His brows furrowed, and he looked away and then back, continuing. “I just…I have gifts, and…. You must consider them, each of them. But if you’re going to accept any, you have to accept all. So I need to know if you will accept them, or not.” Castiel told him.

Dean dropped his head back for a moment. After nearly a minute, he raised his head again and watched as Castiel pulled the objects forth from his trench-coat, setting each on the dashboard. One at a time, he lay them, and described them in the process.

The first, as Castiel nervously lay it down, turned out to be a long, large, and sturdy looking feather, very silky. It was black, though it reflected iridescently. It was the length of Dean’s forearm, and he would have begun to wonder its origins, but Castiel answered him before he could even think.

“A primary feather. From my wing. It…doesn’t hold a lot of practical use, but it can offer calm and peace to the one touching it. It is decently resilient, and it…it is a part of me.” He couldn’t seem to come up with the right words for his last statement, so he settled with that.

Dean reached warily to touch it, and when his fingers glided across the soft feather, feeling its texture, he could feel a faint soothing sensation rushing to his chest before he removed his hand. He looked to Castiel, who had watched him touch it, before he continued to pull out the next object and lay it on the dashboard.

It seemed to be some sort of strange plant, familiar yet very unusual. It had brilliant colors, and it’s shape and how the flora grew from the stem, it looked similar to delphinium, yet very different, as it surely wasn’t that. There was something about it…it was just, unique.

“A species of Sphenophyllum.” Castiel told him. “I had to go a bit far for that, but…I think it’s worth it…”

Dean looked to Castiel, and then back to what essentially was some sort of flower. Castiel was giving him a flower?

And then Castiel lay the last item. A black handle just slightly shorter than his forearm, wrapped in dark brown leather and a weird black/dark red colored axe-blade of a strange shape fixed with it. It was a very unique weapon, it’s shape reminded Dean of the weapon he’d used in purgatory. Dean could almost swear there was some angel writing, written in some deep gold along the curve of the blade.

“…Wow.”

“This is an ancient battle-axe. Very ancient, very sacred—many tribes and groups believed in different religions that it was some sort of gift from a God, or Goddess, or ancient warrior revered in their culture. As different as the stories always were, the most consistent detail was that it was destined to be wielded by the greatest and most worthy of hunters.” Castiel told him, and Dean raised an impressed brow at that. “No one ever agreed on whether that meant a single wielder destined in a single life time to wield it, or if it were meant for any worthy hunters throughout the years. Considering it’s still around, I lean towards the latter sentiment.”

“…Why are you giving me this, Cas?” Dean asked, pulling his eyes from the now even more impressive weapon. Castiel was watching him with consideration, as if he was working on figuring out or deciding what words to use to explain.

“I assumed the gesture was enough… I think you worthy. But it…it only matters if you think yourself worthy, as well.” He stated, and something about his voice made the statement sound heavier.

There was brief silence, with Dean staring at the items and Castiel staring at Dean, before Dean tore his gaze back to Castiel.

“Do you accept or dismiss my gifts, Dean?” Castiel asked carefully, his voice unsure.

Dean almost wanted to glare, express his exasperation but instead, in the need to try again to get clear answers, he instead answers, “Yes, Cas, I accept them all. But seriously, man-”

“Dean, it…it will make sense very soon, just-”

Dean reached then, catching Castiel’s sleeve of his trench-coat in hopes of keeping him from popping off, and Castiel looked down at the hand and back to Dean, the look on his face another one of those deer-in-the-headlights looks Dean was getting to recognize. “…Are you okay?” he asked, letting go due to the look. As amusing as it had been to see before the first time in the brothel, it had obviously been a look of discomfort and some decent degree of some sort of fear.

Castiel just watched him for a moment longer, lowering his gaze, and then he was gone.

Dean just sat there, seeming to sift through which reaction was more fitting in the moment as he stared at the empty seat. Scream, curse, sigh, hit something, continue on like it didn’t even bother him, blare the music, get some food, what?

Well, he ended up opting for a slam of his fist to the steering wheel, a nice and loud curse that no one heard, and a sudden U-turn from where he’d abruptly parked, and then he was heading back to the motel.

The moment he pulled back into the parking lot, he cut off the car, gathered the gifts that had cluttered into the passenger seat and floorboard, and he stormed back inside their room, finding Sam relaxing with his laptop, just about shutting it. Dean tossed the gifts on the bed and pointed in Sam’s direction. “Don’t shut that thing just yet.”

Sam looked confused, but stopped. “Why not?”

“Because, we NEED to figure out what’s up with Cas. I don’t care what you think, dude, something is UP. He’s fidgety, he’s freaked one second, or he’s short the next. So, either you KNOW something and that’s why you’re not worried, or you’re just not seeing what I’m seeing but I don’t care! So you’re going to research and help me figure this out.” Dean demanded, beginning to pace as he tried to think. There’s plenty of reasons angels might get a hold of Castiel, and who knows how many angels  possessed those reasons. How that could correlate with Castiel’s gifts and attitude, he wasn’t sure, but he’d figure it out.

Sam sighed. “Dean…look, just take a breath.”

Dean moved to lay out the recent gifts for Sam to see them clearly. “He’s not making sense. Look, he gives me a…a feather of his, for what, I don’t know, he said it had calming effects but I don’t know if that was the point… Then this dang flower, which is just weird in itself, the name was weird-”

Sam leaned and narrowed his eyes at the flower. “What did he call that…?”

“A…a…some sort of a… Sphenophyllum, I think it was what he said.” Dean said, pronouncing the name carefully, rubbing the bridge of his nose, that headache now returning and coming on as he’d feared it would. “And that weapon, said it was some ancient, hunter-destined weapon, all special and crap, like everything else supposedly. I just…I don’t understand all these gifts… Why these specifically? Why now? Why me? And he’s just been acting… Dude, I grabbed his coat to stop him from leaving, and he FREAKED. I don’t know if it was the touch, or my attitude, or he knew I was trying to keep him there and he didn’t like it, I don’t…”

“Dean, breath. Just…take a second, we’ll figure this out.” Sam advised, looking over the gifts again before typing into the laptop a bit.

“So you admit he’s been acting weird.” Dean stated more than asked as he rubbed at his face a bit.

“Yeah, I do, I just…didn’t feel like it was such a threatening or…worry-worthy change in him. Look, I’ll start doing what research I can; on the gifts, on how he’s been acting, though I highly doubt there’s any info out there on the unnatural attitudes of your friendly neighborhood angels.”

“Just do your thing, okay.” Dean grumbled, rubbing at his temple as he sat down, and finding his hand plopping at his side, his fingers found soft, warm silk. He looked down as he felt the warmth spreading once again, going to his chest and seeming to flow softly through him, easing the tightness of his chest, the twist in his stomach, and even slowly soothing the ache in his head. Dean was becoming faintly boggled the longer he touched it and really felt how truly calming its affects were, before Sam spoke up then, pulling his attention away, his hand removing itself from the primary feather.

“So…that plant?” Sam began, brows raised as if surprised or impressed.

“Yeah?”

“…It’s extinct… Has been for a while.”

“Extinct?” Dean repeated.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Like…Triassic period, extinct.”

“…He went _back in time_ for that thing?” Dean questioned, though it wasn’t a question for further confirmation, more an accusation to the absent angel.

Sam nodded. “Must have…”

“Stupid freaking nerd angel, I swear—going back in time…that shits risky, he can’t just be… Oh, forget it, I’m gonna make some calls to hunters or police or whatever in the area while you do your thing, I can’t just sit here. Maybe someone’s seen some suspicious stuff or angel crap…” He stood from the bed, going for his phone and already dialing his first number, unsure what he was even going to ask about but knowing he needed to try and do something.

This angel was driving him crazy.

~

It was only two hours into calls and research when Sam’s stomach growled and he considered reminding Dean he hadn’t done the shopping he was supposed to, as there wasn’t much for snacks or meals other than chips or protein bars.

“So…you didn’t manage to reach any gas stations or stores before Castiel popped in, did you?” the younger Winchester asked, sounding as if he already had the answer.

Dean was glaring intently at his phone as he was scrolling through the numbers there—he’d already been through every number that might provide someone with something useful to offer, but thus far, he was getting nothing, and he was pissed, trying to convince himself he’d missed a number. But, thanks to his last few calls being met with aggravated hunters threatening to come kick his ass if he doesn’t stop bugging them, he was very near chucking the phone in his frustration.

“No, I didn’t, why?”

“Considering putting a pause on research, man—I’m hungry.” Sam told him, already closing his laptop and Dean’s head shot up to look at him and the closed state of his laptop, as if that was something that shouldn’t be happening.

“What? No, dude, we got snacks, we’re fine for another day.”

“Dean, I’d like some sort of meal, even if it’s just a salad or some fast food if I have to, I need something other than bars and chips.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry I haven’t provided your gourmet meal for the week, Sammy, let me go find a nice working kitchen and get something going.” Dean snarked, and Sam was barely even fazed by it, as Dean was all snark and attitude lately, he was getting used to it.

“Would you chill out?” he sighed calmly as he could, getting off his bed and going for his jacket and the keys, and despite the look and the raise of Dean’s arms that was his unspoken gesture of ‘what do you think you’re doing?’, he still put on the jacket. “I’ll go get something to eat. Take over my research, keep calling your contacts, whatever, but I’m going-”

“Dude, really-”

“Hello, Dean. Sam.”

Both the Winchester’s looked by the window by the door, to which Sam had been heading before he stopped, and now his eyes were drawn to what the feathery subject of Dean’s distress was holding in his hands. It was a very fancy looking platter, full of similar and small slabs of meat that seemed to have been prepared and seasoned differently each, just three slabs. The platter was faintly steaming, and there was a bottle of Dean’s favorite beer balanced on it. Whatever it was, some sort of fish it seemed like, smelled amazing, and Sam’s AND Dean’s stomachs growled simultaneously.

Sam couldn’t stop staring, trying not to take in the warm, seasoned smell of the platter. It even had a small collection of assorted vegetables that seemed like they were seasoned as well. Dean, however, flitted his eyes up and down the angel, then back to the platter, then down again as he took notice of the fact that Castiel was missing his shoes and socks.

“Cas…what is that?” Sam asked finally.

“A rare deep-sea, sea-food delicacy.” Castiel answered, turning towards Dean then, and offering it in the hunter’s direction without moving. “If you accept this, it would be best to consume it in the next five hours.”

Dean briefly wondered if that just meant it would go bad in five hours, not that he’d wait that long to eat, but he also faintly wondered if it was another one of Castiel’s weird requirements. As much as his stomach was now alerting him to how much he actually needed the food, he was very sure this was yet another gift.

He stood even so, though, and took the platter. “Sure, I’ll accept. I’m never one to turn down food, especially if its tasty.” He said, putting it down balanced on the foot of his bed.

“I assure you, it should be delicious. I made sure of it.” Castiel informed him.

Dean made a look at that, and was about to turn and ask Castiel if he had fixed it, but the damn angel was gone again. Dean stared at the empty space, rolled his eyes, and just let it roll off. There was only so many times his anger could spike in a short span of time. He needed a food break, and that’s what he was taking now as he sat down with the food (there were already utensils set nicely as well, though only enough for one person; a single fork, knife, and spoon).

Taking up the fork and jabbing one of the slabs of meat, Dean pulled a nice chunk apart and took the bite into his mouth. Whatever Cas may have done in cooking and flavoring it, it definitely excited Dean’s taste-buds with a burst of flavor, and it was perfectly warm, almost burning his tongue, but he still tasted it enough. Moaning, he shut his eyes. “…Well, if Cas made this, then the damn angel can COOK.”

Sam was still standing at the door, looking at the food longingly, and after taking another bite of another slab of meat and moaning at that burst of flavor as well, Dean looked up to notice Sam’s stare.

Picking up the spoon, he held it up to offer to Sam. “Come on, there’s probably enough to share. But I call a whole slab once I decide which tastes the best.”

Sam looked very conflicted, but his eyes flit up to his laptop, and back to Dean and his brother’s food. “…I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be back in a bit.” Sam said, exited the room before Dean could complain, and with a full mouth, the older hunter really didn’t want to.

The more Dean ate, the better he felt, in a way. They might make a chef of the angel yet, at this rate, as the flavoring had been amazing, the meat nearly felt like it melted in his mouth with the soft texture and the juiciness. Dean even ate some of the vegetables before stopping with half of a slab of meat left. He could probably eat that last bit, but he got the feeling he would feel bloated, and what he’d ate so far had been so satisfying. And boosting, too, even. Sure, Dean could always notice how a proper meal could give him a nice boost, but that shit had him ready to run down some monsters, wrestle some wolves.

He was relaxing with his beer once Sam made it back with his half-eaten salad he must have gotten from one of the few close-by fast-food joints now offering healthy dishes.

Sam raised a brow at Dean’s almost relaxed and happy-seeming attitude. “Food that good, huh?”

Dean took a swallow of his bear and sighed and nodded. “Pretty damn good, yeah. Maybe once we deal with this weird-spell with Cas, we can convince him to cook now and again. Maybe even get him to eat a bit of it too, so I won’t feel as bad.”

Sam watched him for a moment longer, glancing to the platter, and he faintly laughed to himself as he plopped down on his bed and finished his own meal, opening his laptop and checking some things as he did so.

It was thirty minutes or so later before Sam finally shut his laptop. He was becoming increasingly engrossed in whatever his researching was bringing up, though wouldn’t answer Dean’s questions and the older hunter was too chilled-out to bother bugging Sam for an answer—he was even channel surfing. When Sam finally did shut his laptop, chuckling before stopping himself, but unable to fully hold back to smirk on his lips, Dean stopped surfing and turned his attention to his brother, setting down his empty bottle.

“What, Chuckles?”

Sam made a disapproving face at the name which brought nightmarish visions of painted faces to his mind, before he responded. “Nothing…”

“…You’ve been researching for hours, you finish researching without a word, the only thing you do is laugh, and you’re telling me it’s nothing.” Dean assessed, though there wasn’t as much annoyance as Sam would expect.

“I was taking the time to make sure all of my information lined up right before I told you anything.” Sam defended, decently truthful when he said so.

“Well then, are you going to tell me?” Dean asked, the annoyance beginning to make its appearance, but before Sam could manage to say anything, he was thankfully interrupted by the buzz of Dean’s phone. He reached for it, flipping it open and his brows furrowed. “…It’s Cas.”

“He’s texting?”

“He says to come out to the clearing behind the storage building of the motel, and quick.” Dean told Sam, and stood, going for his jacket, and his gun that was lying in his bag. Checking his weapon, he stowed it in his jacket as he pulled it on. “Come on, Sam.”

“He didn’t say anything else?” Sam asked, grabbing his phone and his jacket, though hesitating, as if he wasn’t going to go.

Dean noticed, looking his brother over with accusation in his eyes. “Dude—he needs us, this shits finally got serious! He could be trapped by his asshole siblings, or hell, they might have him and might’ve texted us for a trap—whatever, either way, we gotta help him. So come on!” he stormed out of the room before Sam could say anything else, and stowing his phone away, Sam went after his brother, shutting the door behind him.

It was nightfall, so their trek to the clearing was a mix of sneaking while also trying not to seem so obvious about it as it would seem very suspicious to be walking towards and beyond the storage building this late at night, without being employees.

As they’d passed the storage and had made it into the trees, Sam was getting more and more reluctant to be tagging along. After all his research and all the hints he’d picked up on BEFORE this began, he didn’t think his presence was needed or even appropriate.

“Dean, maybe he’s fine, do you really need me coming along…?” Sam asked, taking out his phone as they were getting further through the trees, and he kept at least just a foot or two between himself and his brother as he walked behind him.

“You got somewhere to be? Jeez, he is NOT fine, Sam. Either the angels are guilting and manipulating him, or demons have gotten their hands on him—who knows who could want him, knowing he’s our own special angel buddy? I mean, are you really so oblivious to how he’s been acting?” Dean complained, though in a hushed tone.

“No, Dean, I just don’t think it’s as serious as you do…” Sam responded calmly.

“Then what else, huh? What, you think….damn,” Dean muttered, as if he was just realizing or considering something, “maybe he’s just trying to…ease some of the crap he’s did in the past, maybe that’s why he’s giving ME all the gifts. You’re usually more forgiving and crap when it comes to the bullshit that happens, and maybe he’s a little sensitive to how stern I can be….maybe sometimes I stay too mad…” Dean seemed to be really considering all this as he walked, and as it sounded like it held some truth, Sam didn’t stop him just yet. “Maybe he doesn’t feel we appreciate him,” there was a mutter from Sam, a cough of ‘you’ that Dean ignored, “and he’s trying to get approval…” he shook his head and sighed. “Or he’s just got in a bad way with his brothers again, they kidnapped him because the gift crap wasn’t distracting us like they wanted it to. This can’t be just anything, Sam.”

“Didn’t say it was, Dean.” Sam told him, and Dean shot him a searching look, very nearly stopping to question his brother.

“Look, it has to be SOMETHING-”

Sam sighed, nearly having enough and preparing to tell Dean. “It is something but believe me, your theories are WAY off.”

Dean stopped then, as they were near the clearing, and the look on his face was an annoyance bordering on some sort of ridiculous feeling of betrayal as he could tell in Sam’s voice he honestly KNEW what was going on but hadn’t told him. But before he could even begin to rail Sam, there was a strange echoing noise ahead. They gave one another a look, confused by the sound of it; it was like a voice, but yet not, and it had echoed enough for them to hear. Warily, they began continuing forward without a word, Dean with his gun ready and Sam with phone in hand, beginning to put something in to the browsers search bar, keeping his eyes ahead enough to watch where he was going.

Sam only lowered his phone as they reached the edge of the clearing, ducking behind brush and trees as they over-looked the area. They didn’t see anyone just yet, though there was something in nearly the center of the clearing. A pile.

A pile of what seemed to be clothes, pillows, blankets and other things. And not just a normal pile, the items seemed to wrap and curl, as if laid to curve, apart from the pillows which littered in different positions. And the pile made a near-perfect circle, with how it was set up. It was almost like a nest, as if some bird-nerds wanted to set up a comfy hang-out or cuddle spot out in the woods.

Dean and Sam glanced at one another and continued observing. That’s when Dean noticed, just as Sam pointed out what clothing made up the pile.

“That’s your missing clothes, dude.”

“What the hell?”

Flannel, jeans, pants, socks, a few jackets, though not his more treasured one passed down from John. Underwear, too, to Dean’s displeasure. He tried not to notice how Sam’s gaze turned his way briefly when he was very sure his brother spotted what he himself saw, which was nicely colored silk pair of underwear.

They said nothing.

Castiel’s clothes were there, too, though. At least some of his clothes, as he only had the one outfit. The missing tie, as well as his shoes and socks were lying there amongst it all. As the moon poked out from behind the clouds, though, they noticed more amongst the clothes. Feathers. Feathers of different sizes and textures, bigger ones lying amongst the nest, while smaller once seemed to have been picked up on the wind. Except the wind, or whatever it was, was causing them to dance and float and hover in the air, in a circle over the nest. Dean noticed their similar iridescence to the feather he’d been given by Castiel, though these seemed to shine with it more than the primary had, pulsing and shining with color now and again, like iridescent fire flies.

“…The hell is going on?!” Dean asked urgently under his breath as Sam just stared with faint curiousness, some awe, but more growing amusement than anything else. “The hell do we do?! A…Angels must have took him, his clothes, my clothes, they’re tracking us, they’re-”

Sam was blocking out his brothers rant and theories by now as he checked his phone, doing a last bit of his research, but he knew he had his answer and he started closing out the windows and began putting it on a very specific search that had him biting his lip and making a face like he was both uncomfortable and amused.

“Dude!” Dean suddenly whacked Sam’s arm, and he looked up to witness the angel walking into the clearing then, looking it over, specifically his nest. He heard a shuddered breath from Dean, though, as it was as if the moonlight hit Castiel and brought to life something that had been invisible otherwise.

Castiel’s wings were out, and oh-so-very visible. They were nearly twice his size, and half-opened. Black and iridescent, and looking very ruffled. They quivered and shook and stretched now and again as he paced the clearing, seeming as restless as his wings. The more restless they got, too, they seemed to really reflect the moons light… No, no they were GLOWING.

“Okay, what the hell is even up, can angels go loopy out of nowhere?!” Dean asked, sounded very tired and worried at the same time.

Sam just watched Castiel a moment longer, then looked to Dean and then his phone, and laughed. It was silent as he can manage at first, but he started nodding to himself as he held his phone up in front of him. Dean slapped his arm then, with annoyance as well to keep his brothers attention on this troubling, confusing situation.

Castiel had been pacing back, and then suddenly, he gave a short run and a leap, very gracefully actually, giving the idea that maybe there was some ballet in Jimmy’s past. His toes were so well pointed, his arms at an angle, and even his wings worked into the grace of the act, opening wide and splaying before pulling back in close to his back as Castiel ended with a half-twirl. The look on his face showed the act was experimental, the furrowing of his brows calming eventually.

Sam could barely contain himself by this point, his shoulders shaking with trying to hold back the noise of his laughter as best he could, though he wasn’t doing a perfect job, because Dean could still hear it and he glared at his brother with accusation.

“Am I, like, the ONLY one not losing my shit right now? What’s wrong with you?!”

Finally, Sam raised his phone and offered it to Dean on the page he’d selected from his search. Dean took the phone and began looking over it intently. He didn’t know what the search subject had been, but the page title, with ‘signs’ and details listed below, was;

**Avian Mating Dances and Rituals**

The realization came slow for Dean as he lowered the phone and scrolled through the list. It didn’t come to him quickly. Not as he looked over the different sort of nuptial meanings, nor as he went through the different sort of gifts that ranged from food to shiny objects to the proper nest-making necessities. It didn’t come to him even as he read over how these gifts were offered to the prospect, or object of affection or desire, nor as he read that if it is accepted, the ‘male’ will return to offer a mating dance to lure their intended partner, usually in an open space. And it did not come to him even as he read about the mating meal being offered, the mating dances of the birds and the effort put into nests and what it meant towards the prospect.

No, it was the continuous point being made about how the ‘intended’ must approve of and accept each effort of the ‘male’. And after he’d looked over all of this, and then looked up to Sam with his realization.

Sam shoulders were shaking, and the noises he was making with his withheld laughter were making Dean want to punch him square in the nose. But Dean didn’t help Sam’s laughter, as he looked like a deer caught in headlights himself and he looked back to the clearing as Castiel leapt once again.

All the gifts, their strangeness and yet their meaning, and Castiel’s reactions and urgency were quickly making sense and seemed to hit Dean all at once, leaving him fumbling with what to even DO, much less think. He looked to Sam again, opening his mouth to say something, but Sam was no longer beside him. He looked to see his brother retreating, shaking form, and his poorly contained laughter was all-but erupting now yet decreasing with his leave.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed silently, and looked back to find the angel standing on the other side of the brush and trees, staring at him, looking both nervous and excited. And expectant.

Dean swallowed, stowing Sam’s phone and his gun then and he slowly but carefully stood. Castiel backed up just a step, looking Dean over in a way that made him strangely uncomfortable in a way he wasn’t entirely used to, yet he didn’t really attempt to disturb the view of anything the angel is observing. His blue gaze return to Dean’s face, and as his wings quivered again. He looked very flustered but determined.

With a shaky sigh, Dean started entering the clearing, Castiel backing up to allow him. The further Dean got from the protection of the trees, the more flustered he felt and acted, averting his gaze from Castiel and overlooking the clearing and the nest again. God, this was actually happening. Castiel’s worry and expectancy and reactions and urgency and gifts and attitude and attention to Dean was all crashing sense into the hunter now, and Dean ran a hand over his mouth.

His eyes followed Castiel’s bare feet in the grass as the angel walked around him briefly, before catching Dean’s eyes with his own. He began pacing the hunter, and Dean did the same hesitantly.

“…C-Cas, what’s…going on?” he asked, even though he knew, thanks to Sam’s damn way of revealing it all to him (it made him wonder how long Sam had assumed this shit and how he’d found out and why he hadn’t WARNED Dean before this got this far).

Castiel spoke, and his voice was strangely soft despite is gravely nature, as he was carefully explaining. “I am sorry for how this may have alarmed you, Dean. The ritual required many things, among them, separation to properly test how true the connection was.”

Dean’s eyes widened a bit. So what, did his aggravation mean it was a distrustful connection? Or an important one? He knew it was the latter, and he wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“The next step is required; I will now display myself for you.” Castiel informed him.

Dean raised his hands, crossing them a bit. “Whoa whoa, wait, what? Out the open, man?”

Castiel just quickened his pacing, wings action up with flutters and expansion until he suddenly leapt toward Dean with them giving a quiver and a beat. Despite taking a step back from the action, Dean didn’t take his eyes away, and the shining iridescence was not missed. It was very intriguing, actually for a moment, so much so that Dean’s eyes watched Castiel’s wings for a few seconds before the shine dulled down. Puzzled and weirded out by how briefly mesmerized he was, he watched Castiel just continue to leap or move around, though each move seemed to have a purpose. His footsteps glided, and it was as if each step was a part of some one-man dance.

With the leaping, amusement was rising from underneath the apprehension and confusion of the whole situation—what else is he supposed to think about his friend hopping and prancing around? But the more he looked at Castiel’s wings, or even his face at the strange nervous yet peaceful look on his face, he was finding it more interesting and enthralling than he thought he should.

That’s when he heard the noises. Some, he could see Castiel making with his mouth, but others he did not. Clicking noises, weird vibrating noises like purrs, those had to be coming from Cas. But then, when his mouth faintly open, or it closed as well as his eyes, there was that echoing noise again. An eruption of foreign, but enticing sound that almost sounded music-like. It seemed so impossible, but he KNEW he heard it, and Castiel kept making looks when the noises sounded. Dean had stopped pacing at this point, and could only watch Castiel. What else could he do? Stop the guy? That would hurt him, surely, after all this effort. But what, was he supposed to let him and make him think Dean was all for this? That thought led the man to start considering, now that he’d technically accepted this all through accepting the gifts, maybe he should really figure out whether to put a stop to this or…honestly, and with full understanding, accept this.

Dean heard the echo again and took a deep breath and let it out. It was so…unique. It was nothing he ever heard before, and he found himself wanting to keep listening. He wanted to hear it louder, more clearly. And it did increase for a moment, as Castiel made a leaping movement towards him again and he barely backed away, as Castiel landed and moved down to his knees before Dean.

His arms were in weird, theatrical angles, his head bowed, and wings splayed out widely, feathers almost pointing in every direction. It was like a meditative or prayer like stature, his wings open behind him in an almost oval, quivering and pulsing with a faint glow and their iridescence.

“…Cas..” Dean muttered, confused but in awe of it. Castiel almost looked ridiculous in the position, but there was something about how the angel’s body language was both nervous and confident, and yet somehow graceful that had Dean a bit enraptured by it. He kept looking him up and down, until Castiel raised his head.

“This is mating display for you, Dean…” he told him, and the nervousness was in his voice, but he was sure. “I have proved my worthiness to you…and now, I will test yours.”

“Wait, how?” Dean asked, getting serious then as Castiel was backing up again, then he broke into a brief run and took into the air, wings beating hard and powerfully—if it wasn’t for his worry, Dean would just stare in appreciative awe of just how BEAUTIFUL and _powerful_ Castiel’s wings were, but the angel just went higher and higher. “CAS!!”

He stared, seeing Castiel’s form receding, getting smaller, the greatest indication of **him** being the moon reflecting off his trench-coat and at moments, his wings, though they somewhat blended into the night sky. And then suddenly the flapping, tan coat was becoming clearer. The longer Dean watched, he realized Castiel was no longer flying. He was free-falling.

He was dive-bombing, straight for Dean. And suddenly the man was panicked.

“What the hell, CAS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

The angel still hadn’t stopped and Dean’s heart was racing. What the hell was this feather-brain thinking? How was this testing Dean’s worthiness?! He was either going to kill Dean on impact, or kill himself if Dean didn’t catch him—was that what he was supposed to do, catch him? To prove himself?

Feeling his life preparing to flash before him, Dean panicked and yelled, “Dude, okay, okay, I accept your display, Cas, just stop, this—THIS IS NOT HOW YOU FLIRT OR SHIT, CAS, OKAY, I’LL GO OUT WITH YOU, JUST DON’T KILL ME FIRST.”

He threw his hands up, eyes shut tight and body tense, waiting for the impact, only for nothing to happen. He waited a moment longer, but he heard the flutter of wings, and slowly opened his eyes and lowered his arms to find Castiel standing in front of him once again.

The angel looked wild, in more ways than one. His hair was wind-blown, looking like bed-head almost. His eyes were glowing, Dean noticed. It was undeniable, the moment he locked eyes with the angel. It wasn’t like his previous power displays, no, but they were glowing…and so was his skin. It wasn’t some happy-glow, it was actually a faint glow, though he did seem happy. Very happy. Satisfied, even, like all his worries and troubles had suddenly melted away. A small smile pulled at his lips as he watched Dean, and the man laughed awkwardly. His heart was still racing, and head pounding from it all; Castiel was freaking doing some mating ritual, some bird or angel shit (he knew it was probably the latter, but the best they had to compare it to was birds), to get with Dean. Dean had to wonder if Castiel was actually wanting to be with him, as he wondered that of himself. Hell, had he not been like a worried mother hen over Castiel’s strangeness and absence lately, it would take more effort to decipher on his part, but really…there was too little apprehension in the thought of being anything, in any way with Castiel, for him to be able to deny it to himself right now. He cared about Cas, so much so that he was wanting to tear any and every monster a new one just to get answers over the past few days. He felt comfort and home when the guy was around. And by god, if the angel wasn’t damn attractive right now. It was so blatant right now, what a holy being Castiel was, and damned if that didn’t make him even more attractive.

“…You know…” Dean began, glancing around to see if Sam had hovered for any reason, though he doubted he did and was glad to see he was right, “…There are better ways to ask someone out or…for whatever you’re wanting, than to do…well, everything you’ve been doing, Cas. All you had to do was ask. Maybe flirt a little.” He smirked at that, then laughed, trying to imagine Castiel flirting.

Castiel flushed a bit, eyes shooting down and back up. “This is the best I knew to do…”

“Okay, well, next time, try not to worry the shit out of me?”

Castiel nodded with brief guilt. “I’ll keep that in mind… So…you’ve…accepted my proposition?”

Dean’s browed furrowed. “Do you have to put it like that?” he complained, but it really hit him, he’d just said he’d go out with Castiel. His stomach flipped and he cleared his throat. And, hopefully for the last time, he nodded and said, “Yes, Cas. I…I accept.”

Castiel smiled more, almost that gummy grin he got that was so dorky yet pleasing to see, before it fell to a small one once more. Then he looked at Dean intently, looking him up and down before asking, “…Well? Are you going to offer me your mating display?”

“My what?!” Dean questioned, at a loss and feeling a faint flush to the back of his neck as his mind went to the most crude understand of such a question, out of habit.

“Your method of woo’ing me. So I may accept you as a suitable mate.” Castiel explained, before shrugging and adding, “Of course, that’s obviously my intention either way, as I was the one to initiate and you the one to accept, but it’s always nice to-”

Dean sighed and waved his hand dismissively. “Y-yeah, yeah, alright…uh…how…” he thought for a moment, clearing his throat and feeling nervous this time. A nervous he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager…since his first kiss, even. It was ridiculous, but he tried not to focus on it as he tried to piece together something that would…fit this whole crazy ritual thing. “How about…just a song…?”

Castiel barely took a moment to consider it before nodding with his approval, smiling and waiting then, pulling in his wings to a relaxed position, though they still quivered now and again.

Dean nodded and smiled back, relieved for a moment. Before making a conflicted face as he tried to think, what the HELL he would sing to Castiel. What meant enough? Meant the right thing? He kept glancing at Castiel as he thought. Half the rock songs he could even think of seemed either too romantic and chick-flicky, or too sleazy, and the more he watched Castiel’s face; the anticipation, the joy, even adoration there, he knew he really needed to find a proper song. He was too worried about figuring that out to even let himself think about if his voice was honestly worthy of anything beyond talentless and carefree radio singing.

And then it came to him. He could feel his chest both clench and warm, hearing the song he’d decided upon singing playing in his head, though it was not the voice of the original artists singing it, but his mother. He swallowed and cleared his throat, getting ready, and he noticed Castiel fidget, preparing himself as well.

Deciding where to start, Dean finally began. His voice faintly shook with nervousness, embarrassment, and emotion, but the longer he would sing, the stronger his tone became, and his confidence. “…Hey Jude, don’t make it bad… Take a sad song, and make it better…”

Castiel quirked his head, curious and intent upon Dean’s singing.

“Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.” Dean lowered his gaze, taking a breath, but the clench in his chest was lessening, and he only felt warmth as he raised his eyes to Castiel’s impossible blue ones. “Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made…to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.”

Castiel straightened, his smile softening into a content line, his eyes never leaving Dean. His chest puffed, wings opening and quivering faintly as he listened on.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.” By this point, Dean was decently into it. He may not be sure it really sounded the greatest, but Castiel was obviously enjoying it with each verse Dean sang, and his confidence was growing. He took noticed of Castiel’s wings raising and expanding as he continued. “For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder…” Dean looked nervous but pleased, and smirked a little smile as he sang the Nah nah’s all the way through, moving a step closer to Castiel as he did so.

“Hey Jude, don’t let me down-oof!” Castiel had had enough and took that moment to tackle Dean into the nest, as his way of excepting Dean’s display, and landing on top of the hunter with feather’s billowing around them, and he enveloped them both in his fluffed and quivering wings.

Suffice to say, the singing stopped there, and the nest of course slowly but surely acquired more layers of clothing.


End file.
